Chapter 11 Brandon
brANDON
I’m running my towel through my wet hair when my phone chimes. Looking at the clock on my nightstand, I see it’s earlier than usual for anyone to be awake. Let alone texting. Grabbing my phone, my eyebrows fly to my hairline.
Angie: I don’t know what to wear tomorrow.
Angie: I’ve never been golfing.
Her freak-out shouldn’t make me smile. But it does.
Me: How about you give me your sizes and I’ll surprise you with something.
I watch the text bubbles pop up over and over, until they stop altogether. Figuring I lost her, I wait a few more seconds before placing my phone back on the nightstand and getting ready for work.
Is it odd that I offered to buy her a golfing outfit?
Maybe? This is where my lack of platonic female friendships puts me at a disadvantage.
I think about reaching out to Emily for her input but talk myself out of it.
When she wants to talk to us, she will. I don’t want to rush her healing process and I fear doing that will disrupt her path.
I’ve just finished buttoning up my shirt when my phone pings. Instead of rushing to see what she’s said, I take my time. Maybe I’m fearing for her cancellation, but deep down, I know she’s not the type to do that.
Angie: I don’t want what our relationship is becoming, to become something that revolves around money.
I think about our positions. Me, making more than I care to make while designing video games, and Angie, finishing up school and working at a TapHouse while still living at home. Fuck. Why didn’t I think about that?
Me: You’re right. I’m sorry. But think of it as a present for me.
Angie: Okay…when you put it that way.
Angie: What are the correct colors to wear on a golf course?
I chuckle as I look at her question because I know what she’s getting at.
Me: If they don’t have black, what’s your alternate color?
Angie: Rose pink.
I rear back my head, shocked at her next color. Shaking my head, I respond.
Me: Rose pink. Got it.
Angie: Did that shock you?
Me: A little bit.
Angie: I like shocking people. It keeps the mystery alive.
Me: Good thing I used to play lead detective when James and I were little.
Angie: Are you flirting with me?
Me: For the past few weeks actually.
Angie: Keep it up.
Angie: I’m sure you have to get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Me: I do. See you tomorrow.
Smiling, I pocket my phone and head into my kitchen to brew my coffee.
One good thing I picked up from spending time with James and Emily was her incessant need to make us any proper fuel in the form of caffeine.
Before James passed, I had them over for a crash course in how to make my own coffee.
It didn’t end there, Emily showed me the best beans to use for espresso to make the best latte and cappuccino.
Since Fridays are usually an easy day at work, I just make a coffee and pour in some almond milk.
Leaning against the counter, I look around the darkened living room that’s beginning to lighten up from the rising sun peeking behind the curtains.
I think some people would call me crazy for buying a place as huge as this one.
But after living in a house with six other people and then sharing a tiny college dorm room with Carter, I craved a space to call my own.
Sure, it would be nice to share this space with a significant other, but I get ahead of myself as I let myself picture someone walking down the stairs after stumbling out of my bedroom with bedridden hair and socks scrunched at different lengths.
It’s already so easy for me to picture that person being Angie.
The way I’ve effortlessly been able to slide her into my life by disrupting my routine hasn’t made me want to freak out.
I look at the time on the stove, place my empty mug in the sink, and head to the living room.
This space, the living room in particular, was a selling point for me all those years ago.
I gutted as much as I could before I managed to hire it out.
The floors have been restored to their original oak shade, and the white walls reflect the sunshine that blasts in here during the day.
I turned one of the rooms off the hallway into a dining room, and on the off-chance my family does come over, we have a space to congregate.
Pressing the button on the wall, the curtains part as the city of Philly creates a picturesque view.
Seeing the lights mix with the new day never gets old.
Snagging my keys off the hook, I turn off the overhead light and head out to work.
“No,” I say for the fifth time as my online search comes up wrong. For the last hour, I’ve been searching for the perfect golf outfit for Angie. While I’ve found the shops, the hours of operation have been less than ideal for someone who needs to buy one today.
Looking at my email, I don’t see anything that needs immediate attention and push back from my chair to let Jerry know I’m headed out.
“Brandon,” Carter calls out on my walk to Jerry’s office.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he says and I smirk. “Where are you headed to?”
“Jerry’s. I need to head out for a bit.”
“Ah. Afternoon delight. Unexpected coming from you, but I don’t deny that the appeal is high.”
I lightly smack him on his arm and his laughter knows that’s not what I’m doing. The idea of moving to that place with Angie thrills me, but it also scares the living shit out of me.
“Huh. So if it’s not that…then you have a lunch date with your mom?”
“Crap,” I say under my breath. “I don’t. But thank you for the reminder that I’m failing as a son.”
“You’re not failing. You’re just trying to find a way to juggle everything at once,” he reassures me.
“Thanks,” I tell him and I knock on Jerry’s door. I push in when I hear his muffled voice to come in and look back to see Carter resting on the side of a desk in someone’s cubicle, telling me he’ll wait for me. Rolling my eyes, I open the door and see him hunched over his computer.
“Need a bigger font, old man?” I tease and drop down in the seat in front of his desk.
Jerry has the biggest office, but his things only take up a small portion. We all joke that he should just take up a cubicle, but then people would have to put up with his constant mumbling.
“Watch it. I’m not that much older than your dad.”
“I know.”
In a weird twist of fate, when I landed this internship and told my dad, he was elated it was here. Him and Jerry went to high school together. Although they were never the best of friends back then, they also never spoke a bad word about each other.
“What’s up?”
“What was the first date you took your wife on?” I ask, deciding to just go straight to my questioning.
His bushy eyebrows fly above the lenses of his glasses. “Have you been hiding something from us?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he says, and I know this isn’t the last of the topic.
“Well, it was our third year of college, and I took her to pizza at one of the student centers because I had no money, but I had a meal plan and a dream. Then I took her to one of the plays that the drama department was putting on, which turned out to be The Rocky Horror Show.”
“She liked that?” I ask with a crinkle in my brows.
“That she did. I was also studying her for years before finally asking her out. I knew what she liked and what she didn’t like. So when the time came—meaning I finally put on my big boy pants—I wasn’t floundering when I asked her out.”
“Um…”
“Oh, hush. Back then, we called that romantic.
Nowadays, you kids like to just stalk each other's location and hope to “turn up” wherever their crush is at.” Jerry leans back in his chair and places his hands over his protruding belly.
“This girl—sorry, this woman. You must like her enough to come in here and talk to me.”
“Yeah,” I draw out. “I’m taking her golfing tomorrow and I wanted to let you know that I have to head out to get her outfit.”
“Do you have any other meetings today?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
Jerry shrugs. “Just take the rest of the day. Start your weekend early.”
“Really?”
“Why not? I might give everyone a headstart to their weekend.”
“Huh,” I start and stand up, heading toward the door, “maybe I should come to you with dating questions every Friday.”
“Not a chance. Get out of here.”
Chuckling, I step out of Jerry’s office to find Carter still sitting on the desk. I head back to my office to gather my keys, phone, and wallet, all with my best friend trailing behind me.
“What’s up? Are you leaving?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone, but Jerry’s thinking about sending everyone home early.”
He fist pumps the air, but then looks at me like a lost puppy. “Where are you going?”
“I have an errand to run. I’ll see you on Monday,” I tell him and shut my office door after grabbing my things and making my way to the elevator.
“You having a crush is really cramping my best friend spot,” he jokes.
“No one’s taking that spot from you,” I toss over my shoulder and hear his laughter as I turn the corner to leave.
“Will this be all for you?” the saleswoman asks when I bring my purchases to the counter. I may have gone overboard and bought Angie more than one outfit, along with shoes. But nothing wrong with options and anyone who goes golfing needs to have the proper footwear.
“Yes. Thank you,” I tell her and pay for everything.
Walking out of the store, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes and make my way back to my car, but I stop when I hear my name.
“Mom,” I greet her when I turn around. Shit.
“Hi, honey. Doing some shopping, huh?”
“Yeah. Something like that. What are you doing out here?” I ask and hope it’s enough to pivot her away from who I’m shopping for.
She surveys my bags and looks as if she’s trying to see through the paper. No such luck, thank goodness. “I needed to shop for a few things as well. Did you have lunch?”
No. “I did. We had it catered today.”
“That’s a shame,” she says. “Well, it looks like you were on a mission. I’ll see you on Sunday?”
“Yes,” I tell her and lean forward, kissing her on the cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, honey.”
I turn and walk back the way I was headed and curse myself the entire way back to my car.
For the thousandth time, I wonder if pursuing something with Angie is worth it. But since weaving her into my life in small doses, I can’t think of anything worse than not having her there.
I place her bags in the trunk and round to the driver’s side, sliding in and pulling my phone out to send her a text when I’m settled.
Me: Are you working?
Angie: Hello to you.
Angie: Yes, I’m working.
Me: Sorry. Hi. I have some things for you.
Angie: Okay. Let me know when you’re here and I’ll meet you at my car.
Me: Twenty minutes.
Dropping my phone in the cup holder, I head off in the direction of Angie’s job. I put seeing my mom and what would happen if anyone found out, in the back of my head, and go to my girl.